The Masquerade
by Elie.N.P
Summary: She blinked. They were still in the twins' room, under Fred's covers. Though darkness surrounded them, it was neither total nor terrifying like the one she'd been lost in a second before.Tears gathered in her eyes. Fred had never made it back. He'd never hugged her again. He'd never hurt her either. Everything had been the product of her exhausted mind.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story about love, but most of all about friendship. **

**The characters may be OOC, and I don't follow canon (the story wouldn't exist if I did). There'll be several chapters, but I can't promise to update regularly.  
**

**I hope you'll enjoy your reading! =]**

**ElieNP**

* * *

**The Masquerade**

"We're sorry he-"

"Dead?"

"Oh my gosh!"

"That can't be true!"

"No, he isn't dead, but his condition isn't one of the best."

"_What is it supposed to mean?"_

"I'm afraid he is in a coma."

* * *

Coma. Fred had gotten in a coma. It'd been three months already but he still showed no sign of the imminent waking the specialists were hoping for, thinking that if he'd been lucky enough to survive, he'd successfully defy oblivion.

Had chance really been on his side at that time?

To helplessly lay in a hospital bed, unaware of the world, unable to interact with it, luck wasn't the word which crossed George's mind when he thought about his brother's actual condition. Fred cherished life too much for his to end in such a fashion. Sometimes, whenever it was late in the evening or in the middle of the night, George would come to his room, alone, wondering if the unsmiling man in front of him wouldn't be better off dead.

George didn't hate himself to have those thoughts. He'd fled them, at the very beginning, before accepting that, if roles were swapped, he'd prefer Fred to kill him. The twins had never craved for vegetables, much less to change into one.

The nurses were more used to seeing their patient with a visitor than to finding him alone. Family, friends, but also people who had never, or scarcely ever, spoken to him, whatever their link with him was, all his visitors had something in common. They definitely didn't believe in his loss. Fred would soon be playing pranks on them again, and with his brother they'd become the most famous joke businessmen of the wizard world, they might also conquer the muggle realm in passing.

Though their victory over Voldemort was one to remember, was it worth such a sorrowful aftermath? Most of the wizards had witnessed their loved ones being taken away, tortured, killed, most of them had paid a high price to belong to the still standing side. They didn't regret to have fought for what they believed in. However, they did hold a grudge against those who could have prevented the situation from worsening to that extent. Even Harry, during some of the long silent hours he spent with the Weasleys, couldn't help but think things could have been sorted out differently.

Fred's family wasn't the same any more. Sorrow had begun its reign over the Burrow, overwhelming its usual inhabitants and the few additional ones. Harry and Hermione had moved in, preferring to share their nightmares with people who understood them and their demons perfectly.

Even full, the house held neither smile nor laugh. Albeit they'd tried to rouse them - because Fred wouldn't like them to stupidly stop living when they could still enjoy it - they simply couldn't resume the normal course of their days. They atrociously missed him. Without Fred's smiles, theirs couldn't find a way to their lips, and, if on the off chance, it happened, their eyes would never match the supposedly felt emotion.

Nobody dared enter the room he used to share with his brother any more. George himself refused to push the door open. And Mrs Weasley couldn't bring herself to go in to do some cleaning. It didn't matter that three months had passed nor that dust had certainly conquered all the place. At least Fred would find back his den exactly like he'd last seen it. Untidy, dusty and full of mysteries his mother was certain she didn't want to discover.

The room would remain unopened save for the little hands which, some nights, slowly pressed its handle. Ever so slowly, smalls steps would be taken in the darkness. There was no need for light, the person knew their way by heart. The feet would stop right in front of his bed, then a frail body would tuck itself under his covers. Hair would sprawl on his pillow as a head would be buried in it.

Hermione forced herself to keep her eyes open, fearing she might entirely lose herself in the memories of his presence and fall asleep in his bed until morning came.

It was how it'd used to be during their last summer at the Burrow. She'd spend hours with the twins, working on their crazy projects, only focusing on the practice it offered her rather than on the real purposes for which they were using her knowledge. The twins without their pranks and harebrained inventions wouldn't be the Weasley twins any more. And Hermione loved the mischievous twins as they were. So when they'd asked for her help, she'd given them a positive answer. She'd protest sometimes, telling them they were going too far, but never would she try to make them give up on their passion.

After hours of work, failed attempts, successes, they'd finally collapse on their bed to make the most of a well deserved rest. For a time, they'd even stopped taking their meals with the rest of the family. It had only lasted a short time for Mrs Weasley had quickly forced them back in her kitchen. That they spent their days locked in a room she could deal with, but that they missed family meals, never!

Quite surprisingly, they hadn't protested – Hermione would never have – because it allowed them to take a break, which definitely enhanced their productivity at night.

When this little routine had started, Hermione'd make it back to her own bed, in the room she shared with Ginny. Yet, as time went by, the journey from their door to Ginny's had become difficult, and then to open the twins' door had changed into a herculean task she hadn't had enough strength left to achieve. So they'd all considered it normal when she'd started collapsing on either one of their beds too. Once on George's, another time on Fred's, it had soon become a habit none of them grew tired of. Progressively though, she'd found herself more often sharing Fred's covers. The reason was simple, he was a more peaceful sleeper than his brother. When she'd wake up bruised because of George's moves, she'd only be a little too hot because of Fred's warmth surrounding her.

After the end of that summer, they'd been separated a long time, but never had Hermione lost the comforting feeling of her friend's arms around her. When nightmares plagued her mind, she'd remember his presence and almost instantaneously feel a bit safer.

But now there was no comforting presence any more and her imagination seemed to have abandoned her. As hard as she tried, Fred never came back to her side. Of course, during the war had existed the possibility of them never meeting again – she didn't mind the sleeping habit, it was his presence which reassured her the most – but she'd always successfully gotten over this fear, believing they'd soon be able to resume their projects. Unfortunately, now even the simple idea of spending time with him seemed to be out-of-reach.

Fred couldn't spend time with any one any more. In his comatose state, though he looked like he was sleeping, the effect was more terrifying than comforting. She often visited his hospital room, but never stayed for a long time. He offered a sight which was unbearable for her.

All of them had their own habits concerning their visits to Fred. Mrs Weasley would spend hours by his side, talking, knitting or reading. She always brought something to busy herself with. Mr Weasley would stop by before going to work and on his way back home. Most of them did that, to drop by before their day began and once it finished, every day or punctually. Harry belonged to them, when George rather did like Hermione. They often went together, united by the strong bond they'd developed when working only the three of them together. They'd built a special relationship which now allowed them to be there for each other. Words were not needed between them, each other's presence was enough to hold out.

Fred would definitely come back, as certainly as his pillow still held his scent. Hermione inhaled deeply, biting back a sob. He'd come back, that was a certainty. Muggles got out of a coma after several years, if they could do it why a wizard couldn't too?

Three months were a very long time, an eternity in his situation. The healers couldn't tell for sure which would be the damage done to his organism.

Hermione buried herself further into his bed. As often as she could, she'd bury herself into medical books, both wizard and muggle ones. She'd never imagined herself in this field before, rather having the tendency to flee – or pass out– wherever blood was within sight. She'd always managed her way through the obligatory visits to the infirmary wing at Hogwarts, keeping them as short as possible and turning back on her heels without anybody to force her to. Even with a book it was impossible for her to stay long in that room. No need to speak about St-Mungo! A living nightmare which she now founded herself spending time at several times a week, if not everyday.

She knew it was desperate of her, but couldn't stop hoping though Fred had the best specialists focused on him. If they couldn't come up with a solution, how could she possibly stumble upon an answer in one of her books?

"Hermione?"

She jerked up, all muscles tensed. This voice, almost identical, a lump formed in her throat.

"Hermione... are you all right?"

What a stupid question! She'd have snapped if he wasn't the one to have asked it, because she had no right to be angry at George. People were pestering him with the same stupidity over and over, all day long. Of course none of them was all right, yet the interrogation seemed to be the only way for people who weren't family to dare approach them. Even some of their friends couldn't think about anything else to say when they met.

Hermione shook her head. George had imitated them only because he didn't know what to make of her behaviour.

He was lost.

"I... I..." she stuttered.

As lost as she was.

"It's just..." she suddenly broke down.

George was by her side in less than a second. He tugged her back under the covers and laid on them, his arms gently holding her against him. She buried her nose in his shirt, relieved not to have any explanation to give. George had understood. He wouldn't ask for how long she'd been coming here alone, he wouldn't like her to ask him the same about his nights at the hospital. Albeit they had a strong relationship, there were still things which they preferred to deal with alone.

"I haven't touched anything yet, I just can't," he murmured in her hair.

He didn't need to elaborate for her to understand what he meant. She hadn't had the courage to go back to the workshop where their last experiments had been left alone for so long at all. She felt glad George hadn't resumed their work alone either. It seemed they'd implicitly agreed they needed Fred back to go any further with it.

Embraced by her friend's warmth, Hermione couldn't prevent her eyes from fluttering closed. She fell asleep, lulled by the twins' unique aura. George followed her soon.

* * *

His eyes were deeply boring into hers, burning holes in her soul.

He'd made it back.

His arms tightly set around her waist, pressing her against his body, his hands roamed her back at a crazy rhythm, as if he wanted evidences she wasn't an illusion. He'd positioned himself like a shield around her, protecting her from any harm which could be aimed at her. He was also preventing her from disappearing she understood when he tensed at the step she shakily took backwards. He'd been the one unconscious for three months and yet he was the one scared to see her disappear. Nonsense.

She instinctively leant forwards, in his chest, letting his scent overwhelm her wholly. She rested her ear right above his heart. His heart which was beating fast and loud, nothing like the dull and weak rhythm it'd been keeping up for so long.

His hands went up to caress her hair. How good it was to be held by him! How relieved and peaceful she felt in his arms! Not totally though and it was odd, but, at the moment, she wouldn't give more thoughts about it. Fred was back. She was back in his arms. He was safe. Safe she finally – almost - felt again.

George! She had to tell him! She couldn't keep him in the dark after all the pain he'd endured.

She gently pushed on Fred's chest, as reluctantly as she was to leave his embrace, it was necessary. She moved away as slowly as she could not to rouse any panic in him. Fred didn't speak, but the way his hold painfully tightened around her said it all. He didn't want her to leave.

She delicately stroke his cheek.

"I'm not disappearing anywhere," she murmured. "I have to tell George you're awake. It's not fair to keep it from him."

His hold didn't loosen.

"Fred?"

He roughly pulled her back to his chest.

"Fred!" Hermione cried.

She didn't want to lecture him, yet his childish demeanour was physically painful, worrying and mean to George who she couldn't go break the news to.

It was becoming hard to breath. She could feel his bones digging into hers. Why was he going to such lengths?

"Fred," she squeaked when his hand suddenly grabbed her hair.

She didn't like that. The way he was acting, looking at her darkly, doing as if she was some sort of property, it sent a chill down her spine. She fidgeted, hoping to free herself from his grip. Her skull was going numb where her hair was mercilessly pulled.

"Don't leave without telling me." She tensed. It didn't sound like Fred's voice. "Don't leave without telling me or you won't ever meet me again."

The voice seemed to come from another realm. Somewhere far away, dark, threatening, a place their Fred didn't belong to.

Led by a new found vigour, Hermione grabbed his wrist and twisted it enough so as he finally let go of her. She staggered backwards, she'd have gone as far as possible if his nails hadn't dug into the tender skin of her arms to prevent her from moving farther away.

"Fred?" she called though she'd already – with sheer horror – realised there was no Fred any more, not theirs at least.

The feeling of his hands on her had disappeared, a fierce burning feeling was left instead. She glanced down to see dark red marks scarring her skin. Then she couldn't see anything at all. Darkness surrounded her, no matter where she turned her eyes to.

"Fred?" she shakily called. "Fred, this isn't fun!"

"Don't leave without telling me or you won't ever meet me again." His last words loudly rang in her ears.

"Fred!" she screamed. "Fred!"

"Hermione!"

Her eyes shot open. George was leaning over her, worry filling his eyes.

"Hermione what's going on?"

She blinked. They were still in the twins' room, under Fred's covers. Though darkness surrounded them, it was neither total nor terrifying like the one she'd been lost in a second before.

It'd been a dream, rather a nightmare, nothing else. Tears gathered in her eyes. Fred had never made it back. He'd never hugged her again. He'd never hurt her either. Everything had been the product of her exhausted mind. Her eyes fell to her arms.

She couldn't hold back the loud gasp which instantaneously crossed her lips. Dark streaks of blood were staining her skin. How could- she quickly looked at her hands and shivered. There was also blood on them, under them, she'd been the one hurting herself, not an eerie being coming from her own mind.

"Hermione! For Merlin's sake what's happening to you?"

George's voice was saturated with worry. He'd woken up because of her frantic moves and cries of utter despair. Albeit it wasn't rare to hear Fred's name being screamed in the middle of the night by one of the Burrow's inhabitants, Hermione's behaviour was definitely unusual. As scared and lost as he'd already found her at night because of a nightmare, never had he seen such a sheer terror as the one which was now showing on her features.

Hermione shook her head, unwilling for the pictures of her nightmare to flood her mind again.

She believed in magic. She believed many things could happen, many worlds could exist, yet she hoped dreams couldn't predict – or hold truths about – the future. She was clinging to the hope this one absolutely meant nothing. It was only a sick game of her mind to test her sanity.

"Hermione?" She looked at George, fear still evident in her eyes.

"He was here," she sobbed, finally yielding to his worry. "He was here, back with us, but... but then... when I went to... to tell you he... he... I left him and he... he warned me... he simply..."

She mimicked a disappearance with her hands, unable to voice the words. George's brows furrowed, surrounded by magic since his childhood, he knew, better than her, how much dreams could mean. Gently, he took Hermione in his arms. He'd lull her to sleep first, the explanations would come later, when she'd have calmed down enough to tell him about her dream without shaking, and when her mind would be able to understand how serious the situation might really have become without it. It'd do nothing to scare her more at the moment. Much less when this word was too weak to describe her actual feeling. It was terror which flowed through her, gaining him as well.

Slowly, George's presence and the reassuring words he was whispering in her ears soothed her.

"I want to see him," she murmured.

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**'Hope you enjoy reading this story which will be in 6 parts =]**

**Don't hesitate to tell me what you think!**

**ElieNP**

* * *

George tightened his embrace around her before carefully making them both get up. "Then we're going to see him," he replied.

She nodded, not caring that the visiting hours were long over. Stupid rules wouldn't keep her away from her friend.

George handed her one of Fred's sweater, put on one of his own and summoned their shoes. Hermione looked so frail in his brother's clothes, it made his heart clench painfully.

"Ready?" A slight shake of the head was the sole answer he got, and needed to be certain breaking the rules really didn't matter to any of them.

Hermione was the one who took his hand to transport them to the hospital. At night the place was calm, you could even say peaceful if you succeeded in forgetting the injured, disabled, sick or dying people who were resting between its walls.

They both couldn't.

How many people were waiting for their fate to be decided? How many people would never escape from this place? Fred wouldn't belong to them. Life was unfair, Hermione was well aware of that certainty – she'd already witnessed the fact after all – but this time fate wouldn't have the last word. As long as she, George and everyone else who deeply loved Fred were willing to fight, victory would be on their side.

They slowly walked to Fred's room. His head couldn't be missed among the whiteness of the sheets. Peacefully sleeping he seemed to be, as if he'd soon wake up, make fun of them for looking so out-of-their-shoes. He'd give George a huge slap in the back before hugging him. He'd do the same with Hermione, save for the slap which they all knew he'd never dare try on her.

"Come on." George nudged her to move, doubting he'd be able to enter first.

They had to be realistic, he wouldn't wake up in front of their eyes only because their heart craved for it to happen.

Though she didn't feel like going in, Hermione's hand went to the doorknob.

Her mind and body seemed to be disconnected. Her hands were shaking, her feet stumbled over nothing and her bottom almost missed the chair by his bed. No ghost of a smile appeared on George's face for he was the same mess, unable to walk straight, to focus on anything else but his brother, he almost sat down on Hermione's lap.

The atmosphere was eerie. Fred's presence was oppressive. Oppressive and threatening, as it'd been, behind the false safety, in Hermione's dream.

"Don't like that," she said under her breath.

George acquiesced. Something was wrong. The man in front of him was his brother, and yet it felt as if it wasn't him, as if somebody else had taken his place. He moved his chair closer to Hermione. His fears were progressively confirmed. From the beginning they'd been missing something.

Hermione tightly grabbed his hand, feeling he was going to say words which would be of a great importance, one she was certain she wouldn't like.

"What's happening?"

He entwined his fingers with hers and squeezed them gently.

"He isn't-"

"No." The fierce whisper didn't surprise him. He'd expected her to understand the situation now that her terror had back away a little. Hermione was clever enough to solve the puzzle of which they'd finally found the main pieces.

"The curse is only becoming stronger and stronger as time goes by. Soon, it'll be too late to save Fred," she stated the obvious.

'If it isn't already too late,' George thought.

For three months they'd thought they were fighting fate and health, for three months they'd been certain Fred was winning the battle, surviving, coming closer to recovery. Now they finally realised how wrong they had been. The fight wasn't so easy. Fate, health and magic were tangling up in this game nobody knew the rules of.

"Do you think-"

"I don't know," Hermione cut him off without any dryness. "I don't know, I've never considered the fact it could be such a tough curse, serious to that extent. I've been stupid but it was so similar to some muggle sickness, you wait for an eternity and then the person is back."

"Except muggles didn't have to face magical sickness."

"This fight is really unfair."

Hermione buried her head in her hands, not once breaking the contact with George.

"Unfair, unfair," she repeated. "There is nothing we can do. The curse is becoming stronger and stronger, when we only get weaker and weaker. It's even influencing us, my dreams at least." Tears were flowing on her cheeks.

Reality was hitting her hard. Fred could already be lost for all they knew, without anything to reverse the situation. What if their Fred was gone, replaced by a fake who was waiting in the shadows for them to be at their breaking point before striking the final blow.

"We've been naïve."

They both agreed with George's words. After their victory over Voldemort they'd obviously thought everything would be within their reach. They had preserved the safety of their world, to preserve a human life wouldn't be different. Again, they couldn't have been more wrong.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione's murmur rang like a scream of despair.

They were the only ones to know, probably the only ones who would consider such a possibility to be true. The rest of the Wesley family, plus Harry and Fred's close friends, would never want to even think about it.

"It's impossible to do nothing," George continued their half-silent conversation. "Who knows how he'll be, what will be left of him when he wakes up."

Hermione shivered at the idea of Fred not being Fred any more. Same appearance, different personality, same body, different feelings. The shivers worsened and soon she was shaking uncontrollably. George silently hugged her, counting on the proximity to prevent them both from losing all self-control.

It was time to make a choice. Time to decide to be strong for Fred, or weak enough to yield to the masquerade which would, sooner or later, start.

To live without living, to be there and absent at the same time. Were he aware of that, Fred would loath such a pitiful life.

George tightened his hold around his friend.

"Hermione?" His voice was soft, still it held an edge she immediately grew wary of.

She slightly moved back to look at him in the eyes. "Yes?" There were tears in the blue pearls staring back at her.

"Don't you think it'd be better if... he'd be better off... if he... if we..." Albeit he'd thought about it many times, he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. He deeply inhaled, searching courage where there was no much left. "Don't you think, we own him..." He buried his head in the crook of her neck, muffling the terrible words in her skin, half-hoping she'd not catch them.

But the edge in his voice, the tears in his eyes, his difficulty to speak, the whole situation in fact had Hermione on her guard. Attentive to the smallest detail she didn't miss the capital word. One word, sufficient to definitely solve the puzzle.

"Wouldn't he be happier dead?" she said slowly.

George tensed against her, waiting for her reaction, fearing he might have lost her trust, respect and friendship. Who would want to be friend with a monster? To his surprise, she didn't jerked out of his arms, nor did she scream at him or punch him. Instead, she gently stroked his back.

"He certainly would," she finally admitted in a breath.

Tears were flooding their faces. To save him they'd have to end his life.

"When?" Hermione asked once theirs sobs had sufficiently weakened for her to speak and him to hear her.

He shrugged. Immediately was impossible. They wouldn't have the guts to do it. Besides, their exhaustion and pain were too high for their mind to be clear. They might be missing another solution.

They couldn't take the risk.

"We should rest, by that I mean a good rest, as much as we can. Then we will talk about it again."

Though he'd succeeded in voicing a full sentence, his words held no confidence. It was up to Hermione to choose. "You're right," she agreed. No confidence didn't mean his words were irrational. To rest was the best thing they could do to lessen the risks of making the biggest mistake of their life.

"I'm..." George hesitated a little before speaking his mind. "I'm relieved to have shared my thoughts with somebody, with you to be honest. It was becoming... I mean, I'm not ashamed and yet it's true saying it... I mean the idea has been-"

"Eating away at you?" Hermione offered to complete.

He nodded.

"I don't want to go back to the Burrow. Over there he is everywhere," Hermione softly murmured.

"The same goes for the shop."

"Isn't there any place where we would feel, well, less burdened?"

Still in each other's embrace, Hermione's voice was slightly muffled by George's sweater.

"I don't know. Neither friends' place nor family's."

"Muggle world?" she proposed after several seconds. "Fred's never been there or so I think." She gave George an interrogative look.

Knowing the twins it wouldn't be very surprising to learn they'd gone on some trips in her native world without telling anyone. George smiled a little, full aware of her thoughts, then shook his head.

"No, there were too many things to do and to discover in our world. To be honest, we've never really thought about spending time in yours."

"Good news for muggles," she joked.

He chuckled in response. Peacefulness before the storm. Frowns soon came back on their faces.

"We could stay at your place, your parents aren't there if I remember well."

"I'd rather not. I've pictures of us there, and the place is too familiar. It'll bring back memories."

"Yeah, sounds logical," George agreed feeling stupid to have made this proposition.

"But we have enough money to get a hotel room. One or two nights, more if necessary," she added, lowering her eyes to her trembling fingers.

She frowned, not liking the feeling in her muscles. Exhaustion was taking its toll on them. One or two nights wouldn't be enough to be fully rested, but it was better than nothing. And money wasn't a problem. The sole issue they'd certainly have to face was Mrs Weasley. She wouldn't understand why they needed the isolation. Solidarity was to her the best thing to fight their sorrow, a solidarity which could only be expressed when they were all together. Unfortunately, there wasn't only one way to fight such a situation, and their way, right now, couldn't match with hers any more.

"We'll write the others a note and take our leave without seeing them. I'd advise we go now. What better time than the middle of the night to avoid any question?

Hermione disliked the idea, yet she knew George's plan was the right thing to do. He got up, once again raising her with him. Discretion and speed would be their best weapons, plus George's perfect knowledge about all the spells and curses which protected his house of course. Unknown to most of people, even the Weasleys themselves didn't know them all for many had been added to the list when the occasion had aroused – after surprising discoveries, worrying acknowledgement of flaws in their defence – however these modifications had rarely been shared, voluntarily or not.

Most of the time, the twins had come up with new protections they'd set up in secrecy, either because their idea was illegal or – though it could also be both – would rouse too much interest from undesirable people – mostly the Ministry.

Setting up their own security solutions, they'd progressively discovered – often at their own cost – the other ones. It'd become a challenge to find them all. It'd taken them many long hours out in the dark, in the cold, many injuries, temporary deafness, strange tails or horns, duplication or disappearance of some of their limbs and some other pleasant surprises, but they'd finally deemed it acceptable to say, a little before the beginning of the war, that their house had nothing left to hide from them.

Thus it was very easy for George to make them enter and leave the house without setting off the numerous alarms.

They didn't need to bring many things, a set of spared clothes, money and their wands – they could always be useful, couldn't they?

The Burrow was quiet, all its inhabitants probably sound asleep at such a late, or early it depended on your habits, hour. In no time, they'd packed up and were heading to Muggle Berlin. They'd purposely chosen a city Fred never talked about. They were also certain people wouldn't think about searching them in Germany. They had no links with this country, no reasons to go over there.

The building they went in looked quite decent and offered affordable prices. They'd share a room, they didn't want to be alone, for loneliness and rest didn't work well together. Nevertheless, they chose one with separated beds. Before the war it'd been hard for them to peacefully sleep together, now that they both had violent nightmares, their unconscious fights would certainly be an insurmountable obstacle.

Hermione collapsed on a bed, not caring about being far away from the window or some other futilities. George merely got rid of his sweater and shirt before slipping under the covers. She simply frowned about the fact that, topless, he might catch a cold, but to bicker about it didn't belong to her plans and soon the idea left her mind.

She made a hug effort to get up, the bathroom went prior to the comfortable perspective of imitating George.

She quickly changed into her pyjamas, a loose tee-shirt which had once belonged to Harry and a pair of shorts. She brushed her teeth and hair. Would it have been in her habits she'd even have applied some beauty cream on her skin. The calm which reigned in the small room was soothing her nerves. It was necessary for her to switch her mind off to make the most of the next hours. She'd reluctantly accepted not to bring any books, though it usually allowed her to travel elsewhere, the risk was too great for them to hold something her mind would associate with Fred or memories she had with him.

She took several deep breaths then decided she could go. Not totally numb yet, the rhythm of her mind was slow enough to allow her to close her eyes without images of her previous nightmares washing over her.

The sight George offered was deceitful. Sound asleep because of the stillness of his limbs, she didn't take his rest for granted. His breath wasn't even, nor deep as it used to be when he slept. No matter of what nature the rest was, disturbed or peaceful, there were elements Hermione had learnt to recognize for they never changed.

"Think it'll work?" she softly asked while laying down.

He didn't open his eyes. "It will, time will make it work."

A sigh of frustration crossed her lips.

Time, over and over again, everything seemed to depend on it. Time would make them stronger. Time would sooth their pain. Time would heal their injuries. Time would have Fred come back to them. But time was mostly a treacherous ally, lazy and cruel. Hermione was tired of waiting for it to settle such important matters.

"Do we give ourselves a limit?" She wanted a limit because her patience, led by her nerves, was growing thin.

"Four days," George decided randomly.

She grimaced but said nothing. She doubted they had much stamina left after all the events which had recently happened and four days, in their situation, seemed to be an eternity. She hoped they'd be able to gather enough rest quickly.

How long did they wait in the dark, sometimes with their eyes closed, sometimes with them fixed on the ceiling, restlessly fidgeting, they couldn't tell. They didn't speak. Exhausted they were simply waiting for sleep to take over.

Hermione doubted she'd gotten much sleep on this first night, and from the look of George's face when he woke up, they weren't going to take any definitive decision soon. At least her brain seemed to have adopt a slower rhythm, if luck was on her side, she'd bear to stay in bed all day, drifting off from time to time. George wasn't planning to do anything else. To take their pyjamas would have been sufficient for sightseeing wasn't exactly on their schedule. To do nothing was written in bold letters. And absolutely nothing did they do, absolutely nothing did they say too. They also tried not to think.

The television remained shut. The sole time George had switched it on, the thing had revealed a dying man, the following channel a bloody battlefield, so, not having the courage to search for a safe program, they'd silently agreed to keep the screen black.

Albeit they feared not doing anything might prevent them from sleeping at night, all worry disappeared when the sun surrendered to the moon. This time, they didn't wait for hours before unconsciousness gained them. When they woke up again, it was very early in the morning and, as soon as their eyes met, they both knew it was time they broached the painful subject.

They had no other choice but to give Fred the rest he deserved themselves. They were perfectly aware they'd be considered murderers, would be rejected, condemned even, nevertheless they wouldn't give up. To spend the rest of their life in prison was nothing in comparison to Fred's peace. The discussion was short and went straight to the point. When and how, they didn't need to think about anything else.

They packed up the few things they'd sprawled around the room, not wasting any more time, who knew what could have happened during their absence. Their plan might become useless, their minds might have gone to far, it was possible Fred was back, safe and sane. They might- they were dreaming, they knew it. Their certainty came straight from their heart. If Fred were to wake up now, he wouldn't be the same. The curse would have taken control of him. They couldn't let such a tragedy happen.

A prankster and a bookworm by nature, they had everything to come up with something which would work. Quick and painless, discretion didn't matter, they'd think about, and only about Fred's well-being.

They briefly stopped by the Burrow to get rid of their luggages, then straightly went to Fred's hospital room. It wasn't the middle of the night, but the visiting hours were close to be over, there was a chance for him to have been left alone already. They'd merely wait for the staff to end their round to act.

They were determined. Nothing would stop them, save for the scene which greeted them at the hospital.

"Holy shit," George breathed through clenched teeth.

Hermione's nails involuntarily dug into his arm.

"Hermione! George! Where have you been guys? Mum is furious!"

Breath caught up in their throat, they could only stare, mouths agape, at the sole thing which they didn't have a plan to face. These eyes, this voice, this body, it looked like him, sounded like him, and yet the man staring back at them wasn't their Fred.

They knew it, felt it.

They were too late.

The masquerade had already started.

**To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is another part of The Masquerade. I hope you'll enjoy it!**

**(Do not hesitate to review ;p it's always nice to know your opinion!)**

**ElieNP**

* * *

Three days had passed since Fred had supposedly woken up. Three days during which happiness had finally brightened the faces of his family and friends again. All were over-joyed. And the ones who might have doubted he'd ever come back had apologized many times, thanking whatever – or whoever - had decided to save him and swearing to never lose hope ever again. No grudge was held against them. Doubt, when a situation seemed so tragic, was acceptable. Abnormal were the ones who refused to share this great joy. George and Hermione belonged to these people, in all honesty they were the only ones to have such a negative attitude.

They'd been unable to say anything in front of Fred, nor to explain themselves to Mrs Weasley when she'd cornered them out of the hospital room. She was furious. How could they have dared disappear at such a time! How could they have done that to Fred! Not being there when he'd opened his eyes! They were unforgivable!

Back at the Burrow, they'd locked themselves up in George's room. They needed to think, fast and efficiently. This Fred wasn't their Fred. However to which point was he different, they didn't know. Was there a way to counter the curse? They hadn't known when he was in a coma, now that he was awake, they still had no clue.

They kept moving restlessly around the room. Had their short rest been enough? Hadn't they jumped too quickly to the terrible conclusion? Could they have missed something? Could there be another way to save Fred?

Hermione's nerves reached their breaking point after one day of hearing the house being so full of life. She finally took in the horror they'd been about to commit. They'd been about to kill, to kill Fred without telling anybody, without doing more researches. They'd been about to commit a murder, to murder someone who had still had a chance to live, to be saved. That they hadn't found it had never meant the way didn't exist.

George'd been forced to slap her back to her sense. She'd gone hysteric. A hysteria he'd refused to yield to though he was being overwhelmed by the same guilty feeling.

Their idea had been a sick one. Had they really had Fred's well-being in mind? He was doubting now.

After having gotten rid of her hysteria, Hermione buried herself in disgust, considering herself a monster.

"If you say it again I swear I-"

Her glare cut him off. She'd been whispering the word every single damned minute – perhaps not so often, but it was being insufferable. If they kept going on like that, soon they wouldn't be able to bear with each other's presence. Hermione's glare softened and George's features relaxed. No, they couldn't afford to go on separated ways.

"Sorry," she apologized. "But... but do you realize..."

She didn't need to finish her sentence. Of course he realised. Of course he felt guilty and was horrified by the fatalism which had led them.

"Still, you agree he isn't..."

"Himself," she completed.

"We need to do something."

Albeit she agreed with him, she couldn't help the dryness in her tone. "And what?"

George shook his head. That had been the problem and still was. What could they possibly do?

"We have to stay calm." As logical as it sounded, they hadn't been able to keep panic away the first time, and it'd almost led them to commit the unforgivable. "We shouldn't have taken a decision in the state we were in." He went to sit by Hermione's side on his bed. "I shouldn't have... voiced this idea at all."

Hermione sighed. "Don't take all the blame, I didn't do anything to stop us either."

"I fear my mother is going to kick us out of this room," George said, half chuckling, half grimacing. They'd been wallowing in misery for a very long time. "She doesn't understand at all."

"How could she? We're locked up here instead of celebrating with everybody else."

George nodded. "She can't of course." He rested his elbows on his lap and leant his chin on his fists.

"What are you thinking about?" she softly asked.

"A way to settle everything, or part of it."

"Any results?"

He glanced at her sideways. She shrugged. "Doesn't cost anything to ask." George chuckled. The situation had them both acting out-of-character.

"It may be a good start to go out of this room," Hermione proposed. "Here we don't really know what's going on. I don't like that."

He became serious again. "You mean we should play along with the curse?"

The way her muscles tensed answered him. He frowned. "I don't like that very much either."

"Do you think I do? To think we'll have to do as if Fred was back..." her voice trailed off. "But this is the best we can do for now. We have to understand how things work, what has changed, what hasn't changed... yet. We need to find out where our Fred is." She sighed. "Fuck."

His lips stretched up a bit. Still out-of-character, it was a pity Fred couldn't see her thus, he'd be delighted to witness how much their company had changed her.

"If Mum heard you," he laughed.

Her glare would have impressed him if it wasn't contrasted by the smile gracing her lips. "I know, it's terrible, and all because of you guys," she whined, feigning to be desperate.

"We have never forced such words into your vocabulary," he pointed out.

"I've learnt them by your side," she winked, "it's the same."

Surprising was how quickly they could start to joke when, few minutes ago, they'd been wallowing in misery. Wizard or muggle, there was no difference, in such a delicate situation they needed to relax from time to time. The unforgivable had been about to be committed because of a lack of detachment from their part. You learnt with difficulties from the others' mistakes, but from your own, their own, it was another story. They'd take advantage of the smallest lesson they could make out, and cling to it as much as possible.

"So, ready to take part in this masquerade?" George asked.

"I suggest we take it easy first, what about eating with them tonight instead of taking our dinner here?"

He jumped on his feet and held out his hand for her. "Brilliant!"

She frowned at him. "Don't try too hard George. The goofy smile and jumpy enthusiasm are a bit too much for me. Plus, they may find our change of mind too sudden."

"They will be too happy to see us change our mind. They won't think twice about it."

"I'm not sure. Harry for example-"

"The shock, it's all about the shock of having almost lost Fred and now having him back," he explained. "Trust me, they won't question our behaviour."

Her eyes went to a photography of them all. She couldn't remember when it'd been taken exactly. During some holidays obviously, for it was the sole periods of the year they were all reunited at the Burrow, most likely in summer from the look of their clothes, and in middle of the Weasley Quidditch pitch. They all had smiles on their faces. Arms around shoulders, hands in hands, some sitting in others' lap, some jumping on others' backs. They looked wild and happy, Mrs Weasley merely horrified at how her great extended-family picture would look like. A whole bunch of kids. Kids she loved more than anything else, it didn't matter that they didn't all belong to her.

Hermione smiled at the thought, then focused on where she was with the twins. Fred was sprawled on the ground, his stomach to the earth so as she could be seated on his back, George's hands leaning on her shoulders. Goofy smiles were stretching their lips. She remembered Fred whining about her weight and George's chuckles in her ears as he pushed more on her to burden his brother.

The picture was marvellous. Unfortunately coming from another time, when they hadn't endured so great losses yet.

Hermione slowly got up to take the frame closer to her eyes. Studying their faces more carefully, she remarked how worry was strongly marring their features. They'd already been carrying the burden of war, something far too heavy for their shoulders, for anyone's shoulders. Certainly the youngest generation hadn't experienced war yet, but its shadow hadn't gone unnoticed. That time hadn't been safer than their present, only different.

"We should have been born earlier, or much later," George murmured while walking to the door. "No... in fact this is stupid. What's done is done, and another time doesn't mean a better one." Hermione silently acquiesced. "And to be honest I'd rather not go back to where I come from."

He shivered, half-feigning to be horrified, and winked when he saw her frown. Then he moved his head to point out her hands. "Put it down, or in a drawer. To dwell on the past will do nothing. I don't know how, or when, but we'll take another one, I-"

"Don't you dare promise anything George Weasley," she warned him.

He brought a hand to his heart, eyes widening exaggeratedly. "What? You think I'm a liar? Oh dear! It hurts so much," he exclaimed in a vexed tone.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. It'd be good for her friend to be a bit out-of-character too, it'd be less tiring for her. And yet she was perfectly aware they both needed that kind of attitude. To say stupidities, to act like an uncaring fool, they needed to remember their old days to keep their sanity within reach.

The day they stopped catching sight of this tiny bit of brightness, darkness would have become too thick for them to fight it any longer. Defeat would be proclaimed, definitely.

"You coming? I'm sure dinner is almost ready."

The frame went back to its place.

Going through the threshold of this room meant much more than to merely partake in a great – and dangerous - masquerade. Leaving what had, little by little, become their sanctuary announced the beginning of a new period. Hermione could feel changes were about to happen, important ones. She had no choice but to accept the situation. If she wanted another picture of the extended-family to be taken, such as the one she'd just put back in place – its face to the wall, she had to forgive herself for the mistake she'd been about to make. She had to forget her despair, her doubts, in order to go ahead. To do so she was ready to face anything.

Fred wasn't there any more, George and she were. To make a trio the third member had to be brought back from the place where he was prisoner.

"We'll stop being so changing when he's back, won't we?"

George merely laughed at her remark. Hermione couldn't be righter. For as long as Fred had been missing, and undoubtedly until they truly brought him back, they wouldn't be steady. Odd behaviours, flickering moods, worrying thoughts, they couldn't get further away from their usual-self.

They'd have to tread carefully with the rest of the family. If they were to rouse too many questions, they doubted the tie on their hands would remain loose enough to allow them to investigate on their own.

The stairs seemed too short to Hermione. Soon, they were in the kitchen, coming to face a gaping - and armed with a wooden spoon - Mrs Weasley. Ron slapped his thighs exaggeratedly hard – then grimaced because of the strength he'd been too eager to show himself able of. Ginny and Harry were less exuberant, simply letting out a relieved sigh.

"You're finally out of your den!" Ron loudly exclaimed, still doing his best to hide his pain.

They all rolled their eyes at him.

"Sit down, dinner will be ready in a minute."

Hermione gingerly smiled at Mrs Weasley's gentle invitation – order. In spite of their odd behaviours, she was more than pleased to welcome them back in her kingdom. Thinking about it, Hermione realised she couldn't be angry with her for not noticing the changes her son was victim of. To have been brought to believe she'd lost him for ever was a curse strong enough to crush anything else. All she cared about were the open eyes of her son, his ringing voice in her ears, his soft touch on her skin. Fred was back, and alive, back and alive, alive and conscious, if the curse was so strong he wouldn't be thus. So the curse had been somehow defeated. That was as simple as that.

Hermione clenched her fists under the table. If only she could adopt the same pattern of thoughts.

"Where is Dad?" George casually asked while taking a seat by Hermione's left.

"On his way home, Percy is with him."

"Charlie and Bill will arrive later in the evening," Ginny told them.

A silent agreement had obviously been made. No questions would be asked. No remarks would be made about the previous days. They'd be told all they needed for the gaps to be filled. It'd be as if they had never isolated themselves in the first place.

"He is coming home tomorrow morning." Ron's voice painfully pierced their heart, though it wasn't visible on their face.

"That's great," Hermione beamed.

"Brilliant," George acquiesced.

They glanced at each other, uneasy smiles mirroring on their lips. Nobody around them seemed to notice.

"We want to give him some privacy," Mrs Weasley started. "Which means everyone has to promise they won't be on his back twenty-four hours a day. I'm certain being back among his family will be enough to help him recover quickly." She turned to her son. "You know, he greatly misses sleeping in the same room as you."

George did his best to offer her a smile which could match hers. Hermione pinched his thigh, making his lips move in an expression the others would take as a mix of happiness, tension and worry for his brother.

"Don't worry, everything will be all right." His mother gently told him, her hand desperately trying to arrange his hair.

* * *

It was around midnight when Hermione and George finally succeeded in escaping the familial cocoon. They were all so excited about Fred's return, it was impossible to get them to speak about something else. Surprisingly, they'd enjoyed spending their evening with the family again, but Fred as the main subject wouldn't allow them to entirely feel at ease.

Hermione's fingers were tired of her playing with them. They'd been bent in unbelievable positions. All of that because of that damned guilty feeling their owner couldn't get rid of, much less when she was surrounded by so many people not sharing her thoughts.

George and she, being certain there was a problem with Fred, were betraying their family. Instead of letting themselves being carried by a wave of relief and joy, they were waiting for the moment to prove they were right. But were they truly right?

Hermione was, once again, doubting their theory. Fred might have really come back to them. The atmosphere around him might be the result of their exhaustion, fears and panic. They might have imagined everything because of too wild imaginations. Fred might as well be their old Fred, meaning they were freaking out over nothing.

"He isn't ours."

Her head jerked to the left. "Sorry?"

"Fred, the one who is coming back. Trust me, he isn't the true one."

She frowned. "How-"

"Doubt is written all over your face you know."

Turning over on her back, she loudly sighed. "They are so happy."

"They'll be as much when the true one is back."

"So you think we can bring him back?"

"Why not?"

Hermione stretched her arms above her head. "Because some days ago we've been about to-"

His hands abruptly came to rest on her lips. Her brows furrowed. "Don't." Understanding he wouldn't move away as long as she didn't assure him she wouldn't continue her sentence, she simply bit his fingers, hard, to get the same result.

"We've been about to kill him, we were convinced he was gone, and now we're still convinced that this Fred isn't ours, but we're supposed to get ours back. How? Why? What the hell is happening? I'm lost George, utterly lost. One day everything is over. The other hope is back and hits us hard. What's happening to us George? I wonder. Perhaps we're the ones who should go to a medic. Perhaps we should sleep for days because our exhaustion is much big than we think. Perhaps we're just mad. Perhaps we should," she let her arms fall back on the bed, "perhaps we should just share their joy."

George slapped her. She slapped back. He growled. She raised an eyebrow at him. Were they some beasts?

"You're giving up on him," he snarled.

"Absolutely not!" she spat.

"Yes you are. You traitor!"

She swiftly got up to straddle his hips. "I'm no traitor George. I'm lost and tired. And I want to be happy, as happy as your mother is. The agony in her eyes has disappeared! Why mine couldn't do so? Why our agony is still there? Why can't we be happy? Fred is back!" She pinned his wrist to the bed. "Fred is back," she repeated, stressing out each word.

"He is not," George replied, also stressing out every one of his words. "And you know it."

"Then where is he?" she whined in a breath.

She freed his wrist then collapsed on top of him. "Where is he?" No tears went to soak his shirt though they could have been expected. She'd cried too often over the past months to be able to still do so.

George slowly shifted them so as they both rested on their side, face to face. "I don't know," he sincerely answered. "But we will find out." He chased a lock away from her forehead. "You know it as well as me Hermione. Your dream, the atmosphere, the curse, they haven't been in vain. We live in magic. Magic can betray us, deceive us, but we'll do our best so as it doesn't defeat us."

"Naïve, lost and stupid," she listed. "How can we win against magic?"

"We can."

She punched his chest. "I'm not a kid any more. Such simple answer as that doesn't do anything."

He trapped her fist with his left hand. "But I gingerly think we're going to win because we want to win. We want to have Fred back. You want to have him back."

Her eyes bored into his. She truly longed for Fred's presence, no matter how safe she could feel in George's arms, they weren't Fred's. No need to hide it, George knew. "We all want to have him back."

He gave her a small smile. She wasn't willing to broach the subject, he'd respect her choice, reluctantly though.

"Tomorrow will be awkward."

"And painful."

"We'll look like fools."

"He'll fool everyone."

"Almost."

"You're back on my side, aren't you?"

**To Be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here is the fourth part of this story (there will be six parts). Why do you think? Will they be able to save Fred? **

**Let me know your thoughts! Don't hesitate to review ;D**

**Enjoy your reading!**

**ElieNP**

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes. "I've never left your side George. Sly as you are you perfectly know it. I was just..."

"Doubting," he offered to complete. "It's understandable when you look at the mess we've got ourselves in."

"Why haven't we been fooled by the curse too?"

Bringing along Hermione's, George raised his arm above his head. "Fred's hand is missing. I don't deny Fred and I will always share a special bond, it is a certainty, yet you have undoubtedly succeeded in forming with us another one. Fred and I are a duo. Fred, you and I are a trio. We can't be oblivious when something happens to one of us."

Hermione brought back her hand to her chest. "But your parents, and your brothers, Ginny, Harry, and everyone else! You can't say they have nothing special with Fred," her eyes progressively narrowed to become two thin lines on her face.

Why would she know something Fred's own mother couldn't see? Something was illogical. She couldn't deny George's idea of them three being a trio. A bond had certainly formed between them, the prankster twins and their bookworm friend. Admittedly she'd spent so many days and nights with them that it was impossible to give an exact number, but was it enough? No, it didn't explain why-

"You're thinking too much," her friend interrupted her thoughts. "Perhaps there is no reason. Perhaps the curse can't reach us. Why us, I don't know, but there may be no explanation. Perhaps it's because of the state we were in, perhaps it's because of the hours we've spent together, perhaps it's simply because of who we are. Perhaps the others know, or feel something is wrong without wanting to admit it. They may be afraid. The shock may have been too great for them-"

"And not for us?" she raised an upset eyebrow at him.

"Not in the same way, perhaps more, perhaps less, you know I have absolutely no idea of what is true or false right now. These are nothing but suppositions. To be honest I don't care. The thing which really matters is that we're aware something is wrong, then we can do something to make things right."

They were staring at each other, duelling for their idea to make sense in the other's mind. George wouldn't turn away. He'd come to accept the situation more quickly than Hermione. He wouldn't allow her to remain in the darkness with the others. He needed her by his side to win this battle. Fred was somewhere behind the curse, a curse which didn't seem to be able to reach them. They'd take advantage of that. He understood Hermione's desire to act like his mother, to simply be happy preparing the return of a dear one, but he wouldn't let her. Because what could be true for his mother, couldn't be for her. He didn't know how, but they'd somehow been able to catch the truth behind the lie. They'd partake in the masquerade, and mercilessly thwart it.

He truly believed in his words. There was no way to tell why Hermione and he could see past Fred's appearance. It might be because of the bond he shared with his twin, a bond which might have been extended to Hermione in consideration of the huge amount of time she spent with them.

Now that panic and pain had lessened a little, straying away from his mind, George could also declare his Fred was still there. He'd been a fool not to feel it for three months, to think him dead...

The past had to remain the past, not erasable it wouldn't determine the future for that all.

He was certain his thoughts matched Hermione's. It was only a matter of time before she stopped doubting so much, and so often.

"I'm cumbersome, aren't I?"

George merely approved.

"You don't know what is good for your safety," she commented.

He beamed at her.

"I'm going to try to stop doubting. I can't promise anything. If their happiness is... I don't know if I won't break down tomorrow... But I'll do my best not to, because you're right, this Fred is the curse, and I'll consider him as such until we make things right again." She winked at George then rolled her eyes. "Merlin, stop smiling like that your face is going to disappear behind the goofy thing."

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

They burst into laugher.

"Too many big words tonight, it's time to sleep, don't you think?"

This time it was Hermione's turn to approve.

* * *

Exhausted. Empty. Upset. It was time they went back to their room. Unfortunately even this sanctuary couldn't give them relief any more. George had to share his room with a living curse. Hermione with an over-excited Ginny.

They exchanged encouraging – tensed - smiles before going on their separated ways.

The day had been awful, full of joy, tears and lies. The Fred who wasn't their Fred didn't even care to act like him. He wasn't nice to anyone, didn't joke, spoke loudly - only about himself - and seemed to take a sick pleasure to hurt the people around him. How did Mrs Weasley do to still be able to stand on her feet? An unnerving mystery really. Her son had been so odious, so cruel with her and scornful about all her gentle attentions. If George hadn't been there to restrain her, Hermione would have beaten the puppet to dust.

And it hadn't been better with the rest of the family. Percy had been about to scream at his brother, but had held it back, like they'd all done, only because it was Fred. For him they'd accept anything.

"Bullshit,"Hermione spat against her pillow so as not to alarm Ginny.

Even to her he'd been mean. Fortunately she'd been able to keep in mind that he wasn't her Fred - else it'd have truly hurt.

Her fingers tightened their hold on the sheets. She'd been wrong when she'd told George it'd be hard not to drown into the general happiness. It was in reality impossible for her to think everything was all right.

"I'm so glad Fred is back."

Hermione jumped. She hadn't heard Ginny come to her bed, nor had she felt her sit down on it. She slowly got her head from under the cover.

"Of course," she replied with as much sincerity as she could fake.

Ginny took her hands in hers. "Can you believe he is here? Finally..." Ginny's murmur broke Hermione's heart. Could she even think about telling her it wasn't true? She couldn't. It'd be better to have some allies, but, as George had rightly said, to make allies would be very hard, most likely impossible in their situation.

She gently caressed Ginny's hair. "Of course he is back. It's Fred we're talking about after all." The words were burning her tongue. It was the truth though, it was all about Fred. He hadn't totally surrendered to the curse. He was certainly fighting to make it back to them.

"I'm so glad, so so glad," the red-hair sobbed in her friend's shoulder. "It was so scary. He was so scary in this bed. So frail, so far away..."

Hermione tightened her embrace. "It's over now, it's over," she murmured in her ear.

Lie. Monstrous lie.

"Is he really back?"

The wariness in her tone took the oldest girl aback. Ginny had seemed to believe so much in his return, could she have some doubts? Hermione didn't dare answer, fearing she might betray her own thoughts.

"Is he really back?" Ginny repeated a bit louder.

Hermione stiffened. She didn't want to lie. "Hermione?" She kept her lips tightly closed.

Ginny slightly moved away from her friend. "What's wrong?"

The brunette shook her head. "Nothing," she successfully – if she could say so – croaked.

"Are you sure?" Another nod. "Look at me in the eyes," Ginny authoritatively said. Hermione did as she was told. "What's wrong?" One more nod. "Damn it Hermione! I'm not stupid!"

Hermione winced. Of course Ginny wasn't stupid, nor totally blind, and it was, for once, a pity. She refused to lie. However if Ginny kept her offensive behaviour on she obviously wouldn't last very long.

"Did something happen with Fred? Don't tell me," Hermione tensed, "it's because he's been mean with you!" Her muscles relaxed a little. "Oh Hermione!" Ginny threw her arms around her friend's neck. "He's been mean with everyone. I think he is just exhausted, and scared. He's almost died after all! You shouldn't take it for yourself."

Wrong, from the beginning to the end. Hermione held back a sigh. She'd feared Ginny might have understood – she knew her well enough to imagine what her thoughts could be.

"It hurts." Hermione decided it was safer to play along, besides these words weren't a lie.

"But you know he doesn't mean it! Give him a few days."

Ginny's tone was pleading. It only hurt Hermione more to know she was playing with her friend's feelings. She held out a hand to softly stroke the young girl's cheek. "Don't worry, I know," she answered in a breath.

That night Ginny didn't sleep alone. She remained stuck to her friend's side, lulled by the smoothing caress on her hair and the soft warmth which enveloped her. Albeit she'd have thought it'd be the contrary, Hermione didn't wait for long hours to pass before falling asleep too, peacefully... almost...

"Hermione!"

Turning her head in the voice's direction, she met nothing but darkness.

"Hermione!" The tone sounded icy, the atmosphere was made oppressive by the heat. Wait. No, it wasn't hot, not any more. Now it was as cold as the voice calling her name.

"Hermione for Merlin's sake!"

The heat was back in the game. Then why was she trembling? Could she still be cold without knowing it? No, there was something else, somebody in reality for she was firmly held by the upper-arms and shaken rather violently. Violent and icy, she didn't want to face this person. She tried to get away from their grip, fidgeting uncontrollably though it was hard to find the necessary strength. She felt exhausted and was obviously – her nose could tell – drenched in sweat.

"Hermione! You're scaring me! Hermione wake up!"

"What's happening?"

A second voice reached her ears, not icy, neither had been the other one. Had it been her imagination playing with her mind again?

"I don't know, I wake up because of she was moving too much, then her whole face has started to tense and look at the state she is in!"

"For how long have you been-"

"How would I know! I've been almost screaming in her ears she doesn't seem to hear me!"

The first voice was becoming frantic, the second one held an edge of worry which sounded familiar. The heat around her was thickening quickly. She choked on the hot air which was now making its way to her lunges.

"She's stopped breathing!"

"No! Ginny! Don't start to panic! She is breathing. She does breathe! Ginny!"

Ginny was by her side – she should have guessed earlier! - and the second voice belonged to a man. She frowned, having difficulties to remember his name.

"Hold her down! She's going to hurt herself!"

George of course! Ginny and George! She was sharing a room with the girl after all, it was logical she was with her, as for George, well, what was he doing in their room? Wasn't he supposed to be with Fred?

"It's worsening! We have to wake her up!"

"Hermione?"

Everything abruptly disappeared. The heat, the pain where the hands had been holding her firmly, the sweat, the shaking, the voices, everything but this new aura which had suddenly entered the room.

So familiar yet so eerie.

It was him without being him. Scary. Terrifying. She wanted to run away from the curse, to run as fast as possible, as far away as she could. She wanted to escape the icy grip it had around her throat, the fire it injected in her veins.

"What's the matter?"

"Don't worry Fred, it was just a big nightmare. You can go back to bed, we'll take care of it."

The presence slowly faded away, its grip weakening, its fire losing in intensity until there was no evidence of it any more. Soon she was free, yet not successful. She hadn't escaped the thing, the thing had willingly released her. The shaking came back, less violent, as she slowly opened her eyes.

Relief washed over George and Ginny. The latter engulfed her friend in a bear hug. George's hand simply came to rest on her arm, gently caressing the still drenched skin.

"You scared us," he croaked, his eyes boring into her brown ones.

"I'm sorry," she hoarsely replied.

"What happened?"

Hermione's brows furrowed. "I don't know, I can't remember."

"You seemed scared to death," Ginny's voice was faltering.

"I... There was nothing but darkness, everywhere and... and it was cold and hot, one after the other, terrible. And... I heard you Ginny... or so I think, because it wasn't your voice, it was icy and... not nice at all, after it changed and I'm sure it was your voice then. Also, when it wasn't cold it was hot, too hot to breathe. Then something..." She turned her eyes away from Ginny, focusing only on George's. "Then something suddenly came and there was nothing left but its presence." George narrowed his eyes before they widened in comprehension.

"But it's all right now, it's over, you're with us," Ginny softly said. "You're with us."

She tightened her hug around her friend to emphasize her words. Hermione tried to smile at the girl, but soon gave up. She wasn't able to put a mask on her face right now, she didn't have the strength to play along with the masquerade at the moment.

George had enormous rings under his eyes. Hermione doubted he'd been sleeping well with the curse beside him.

"You should go back to bed," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Else tomorrow," she glanced at the clock, "I mean later in the day, you won't be able to do anything."

George nodded. He got up after having firmly squeezed her arm, assuring her his support.

"Ginny?" The witch wouldn't let go of her.

"Can I stay with you?"

Hermione's features softened. "Of course." They both laid back more comfortably.

* * *

The nightmare came back. Always the same setting, always the same atmosphere and sensations. Ginny would never let Hermione sleep alone, yet this presence didn't prevent them from plaguing her friend. As soon as the first signs showed up, the red-haired girl would take her friend in her arms, slightly rocking back and forth, and hoped the crisis would be shorter than the time before. George had told them to cast silencing charms around the bedroom so as not to wake up the whole house. In spite of the magic, he seemed to always know when the nightmares started. It was becoming a routine to have him rushing to the girls' room. He'd take a seat on Hermione's bed and held her hand until she came back to them. Consciousness never took the same time to be regained, nevertheless it'd always be longer when Fred made an apparition through the threshold.

"He is responsible," Ginny had stated after four days. George hadn't gone back fast enough once Hermione had fallen back to sleep to avoid the confrontation.

"What?"

"Don't fool around with me George. Fred is responsible for Hermione's nightmares." He winced. "Each time he enters the room her state worsens."

"Well-"

"If it's to lie shut up," she dryly cut him off.

He sighed. He had the tendency to forget - too easily - how fiery Ginny's temper could be, and there was the result of his carelessness. He was trapped.

"In a way," he admitted.

"We're making some progress. Come on, what do you know?"

"I-"

"You better shut up if you're planning to feed me lies," she warned him again.

No, he wouldn't dare do such a thing, the idea might have crossed his mind though.

"To be totally honest. We have absolutely no idea of what is happening. All we know is it's about Fred." She raised an eyebrow at him, that wasn't all they knew and she wanted him to realise she wasn't going to be deceived by his silence. "And Hermione and I seem to be more affected by his return than you all. I mean, we've obviously not reacted in the same way as everybody else. It's taken us longer to share the general happiness, to get rid of ours worries."

"Which are still there," she pointed out.

He nodded. Somehow he had the impression Ginny also felt something was wrong. The way she was looking at him now, not as if he was utterly stupid, she believed his words, more than that, she'd caught the meaning behind them.

"He's never come back, has he?" Tears had gathered in her eyes. George held out his free hand to grab one of hers. Squeezing it lightly, he acquiesced.

The tears slowly rolled on her cheeks. "Hermione?" she murmured.

"We've... come across some difficulties together before realising what the situation was truly." Some things were better left out.

"Why have you kept that from us?" There was no accusation in her tone. She was only trying to understand, to solve the puzzle she now had new pieces of.

"Because we seemed to be the only ones to thing like that. Everyone was so happy, can you imagine us telling them their happiness has no reason to be? Can you imagine us telling Mum her son is actually under a powerful curse the medics haven't been able to see?"

He shrugged. "Nobody would have believed us."

That was the truth. If her guts hadn't been twisting each time her brother was around, and if she hadn't witnessed how Hermione's state worsened when he was in the surroundings, she wouldn't believe in her own words. But she'd felt something was wrong, and now, knowing she wasn't alone, she could wholly accept it as the truth.

The fight was far from being over.

"Do you have a plan?"

George nervously bit his lip. "Not really. We're both doing researches about old curses or identical situations, but nothing has come out of it yet. There are several problems. We don't know which curse is currently controlling Fred. We don't know how it affects him, which are the dangers, the way to reach him, and we also have to be wary of the actual Fred, because we can't really tell, except for his appalling behaviour what has changed in him."

"Have you spoken with the medics?"

"Hermione's tried, they are too busy to listen."

Ginny frowned. "It's their job!"

"I know," George answered. "But as long as their patient is standing, living, talking, and doesn't show any sign of sickness then it's all right."

"So what are we going to do? For now we keep observing him?"

"We?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't think I'll let you both on your own. I want my brother back George, and will do anything to make it happen."

George beamed at her. "Brilliant," he exclaimed. Though mild, his enthusiasm was real. It was good to have his little sister by their side.

"I was getting tired of lying to you," a little voice came to their ears.

**To Be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**That's almost the end of our story. I hope you still enjoy reading it! Will Fred finally come back to our friends?**

**Enjoy your reading! And don't forget to review =)**

**ElieNP**

* * *

"Hermione!"

"Weren't you supposed to be asleep? You need to rest," Ginny lectured her friend.

Hermione slightly laughed, not moving away from Ginny's arms. "It's good to have you with us," she murmured. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," she retorted. "I'm doing it for me, and for Fred, for all of us in fact."

George chuckled. "We're going to bring their favourite prankster back."

"I'm certain they all want him back, but for the prankster side, I have some doubts," Ginny giggled.

Hermione allowed the delicate sound to lull her to sleep. If her fear to make nightmares in Ginny's presence lessened then they might lessen too, mightn't they? Not that she feared she might have to talk about them with Ginny, she couldn't have done so because she never remembered anything but various sensations and pain. A black veil fell on her as soon as consciousness kicked back in the game. She just didn't want to worry the girl more than she already was. However if she thought less and less about them they would certainly lose in intensity. Wasn't it what it often happened? The less you cared about something the less it bothered you. She only needed to get over them, to go to bed with only rest in mind. No more nightmares, no more worries. She wouldn't be affected by the presence – the curse – any longer, or at least she hoped it'd become thus.

As days passed, their frustration only grew bigger and bigger. Most of the time, Fred remained insufferable, softening a bit in order to make his future attacks stronger. Ginny had almost lost control several times. Fortunately George or Hermione had always been close enough to prevent her from betraying her thoughts and slapping Fred mercilessly.

Albeit the rest of the family also seemed to have some problems with his new behaviour, they all had a great control over themselves, enough not to lecture him. Mrs Weasley had made it clear she didn't want anyone to be harsh with him as long as he hadn't fully recovered. When would it be? She had no idea and didn't care. Fred needed peaceful surroundings, that was all the Burrow's inhabitants had to bear in mind.

Mr Weasley was too often away at work to realize what was really happening at home. His disrespectful son was simply still exhausted, victim of the shock to have been hit by a life-threatening curse. His other brothers would unconsciously avoid him when their presence by his side – for the meals – wasn't expected, and so did Harry. Fred's friends were all too busy with the aftermath of the war to stop by often enough to become wary of his attitude.

That only left Ginny, George, Hermione, and Mrs Weasley to look after him during the day. In reality, Mrs Weasley was more often by his side than the other three, not that it bothered them.

They still didn't know how they could free Fred from the curse. Save for his unnatural behaviour and mean mood, no changes were to be seen. George had even studied, when he'd found the opportunity to do so, his brother's body, to no avail. The curse was attacking his mind and nothing else. Nothing which could serve them as an evidence of what they were certain.

"A good start would be to establish a contact with our Fred. I mean, some memories could trigger a reaction from him, wherever he is trapped right now."

Albeit the girls thought George was right, they weren't too fond of his idea. To trigger a reaction they'd have to speak with the cursed Fred. And to speak with him they had to be close to him. To be close meant he could attack them, tormenting their mind at leisure. Not a pleasant perspective at all.

"I'll try first."

Ginny wanted to try the little sister approach, but not the moving one. Though she adored Fred, and he adored her as much, she was certain tears wouldn't be the best way to rouse any spark in him. She'd rather go with the accomplice tactics, making him remember all the pranks he'd taught and helped her to do. She'd use funny memories to amuse him. The Fred they had in front of them right now was so moody there was no way he could hide it if the true one were to react.

So she gathered her courage and offered to spend the day with him. They played Quidditch, taking advantage of the fact Hermione had led Mrs Weasley out to do some shopping. They doubted she'd be very pleased to see her son on a broom so soon. Unfortunately, Fred's grumpy mood cut their game short.

Ginny then decided to take them to Hogsmead, all the while never stopping to speak – he could stay silent for all she cared she wasn't interested in the curse but in her brother. She talked about everything she could remember which involved the two of them, if her words didn't make him react she knew her incessant chatter would give some results, in a way or another.

"And the day we-"

"Can't you just stop talking?" he dryly cut her off.

"No," she retorted icily. "So I was saying-"

"What are you trying to do? To get on my nerves? Already done."

She nodded. "Good to know, but no, that wasn't my goal. I have no goal by the way other than to spend some time with you."

"Why?" he snorted.

"Because you're my big brother?" She exaggeratedly fluttered her eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes. "And so what? Because I'm your big brother you have to take me all over the world telling me all we have ever done together? Gosh how much I wish we weren't related!" The smirk he flashed her was full of cruelty. Would he have been her brother, tears would have certainly started to flow on her cheeks. But he wasn't, so the tears obediently stayed away from her eyes.

"That's the idea," she acquiesced with a wink.

She thought he was about to slap her, with his hand roused midway to her face and his jaw firmly clenched, he was determined, or seemed at least for she suddenly noticed something strange in his eyes. It wasn't much - a glint at most - yet it was truly there, waiting in a mist of false emotions.

The raised hand fell back along his body as confusion blurred his sight. Ginny moved right under his nose. "I'll be getting on your nerves until I get my brother back," she hissed. The spark became more vivid. She was taking the right way. Now she only had to... The sudden pain in her cheek took her aback.

She frowned. He was smirking now. Ginny shook her head, then desperately searched for the spark. It couldn't have disappeared so quickly, could it? No, no, no! She clenched her fists.

The curse had taken over again.

"Still want to spend time with your big brother?" the cursed Fred sniggered.

Her eyes bored into his. Wild as she felt she'd have slapped him back if she... if she what? Hadn't she just betrayed herself? She didn't believe in him being his old true-self, there was no reason to hold back any more. Ever so slowly she moved her arm backwards, when had she raised it? He was making her crazy! He was still smirking at her, certainly thinking she wouldn't dare. In a swift move she had the mark of her hand printed in bright red on his cheek.

"You!" he snarled.

"Payback time," she declared, never turning away from his intense glare.

Back home, Ginny told George and Hermione about the spark. Hope was within reach, they only had to find something to make it powerful enough to win against the curse. George was proud of his little sister. She had done very well, and shouldn't have hesitated to slap Fred more.

"Well, I'll go then. Hermione you seem to be the most affected by the curse, we keep you for our last try."

The witch half-heartedly agreed. She'd rather not have participated at all. Facing this Fred wasn't very appealing, nor reassuring.

George brought his brother to their shop, to the workshop to be exact. They crossed the threshold in silence. Would Fred recognize anything? Of course! Even if, at that very moment, he didn't seem thrilled to be there.

"I want to go home."

George rolled his eyes. He was definitely not their Fred. His brother would have been whining not to go.

"We need to work you know, at least on some projects which are almost finished," he explained.

"You can do it alone," Fred retorted.

George raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. "Alone? You want me to do it alone? Fred, the last I've tried to make a potion without you you've stopped talking to me for a whole week!"

Focused on his brother's eyes as much as it was possible without rousing any questions, George didn't miss the change in the blue orbs. He held something there.

"Don't you remember? Your big speech about always working together, save for Hermione who has the right to know what we're doing, and to help us. Our business is only ours. Ours, Fred, neither yours nor mine, but our business. We've started it together, we'll resume it together and improve it so as nobody will ever be able to match it." Once his long tirade over, George carefully studied his twin's face. Something surely had been ignited inside him, there was no way the curse could keep the true Fred away when their business was at stake.

The shop was their dream. In spite of everything, they had built it and made it work. They were famous, rich – you couldn't deny it – and, above all, they were happy. Happier than they'd ever have been with another job.

The spark was there. He could see it dancing among a mist of irritation. It was only a matter of time before they succeeded in igniting it enough to defeat the curse.

"You can't seriously tell me to finish the potions alone Fred, come on! If you're afraid you may not remember the formulas I'll help you, it's dead easy!"

George smirked. The spark was becoming more vivid, unfortunately the irritation was also getting bigger. He'd have to carefully tread if he wanted the former to gain the upper hand.

"Besides, Hermione's said she could make good use of some reminders. She's been away for a long time after all. She's become rusty," he added in a conspiratorial tone.

There it was! The spark was growing, the irritation slowly disappearing behind it.

Their shop and Hermione.

His twin, their shop and Hermione, plus his family, important things to Fred, so important that the curse couldn't be powerful enough to keep him under its control.

"And it's time we open again. Customers are waiting for us you know. Tones and tones of orders have to be taken care of!"

The spark suddenly faltered before completely fading away. George blinked several times. No way! It'd been right there! Right within his reach! Why so suddenly? What could he have said to change a soon-to-be success in failure?

"Money," Fred grunted.

"Sorry?" George gasped.

"You're just after money. You fear we may lose too much if we don't resume work soon enough."

George frowned. Wrong, totally out-of-the-bull's eye. He shook his head. "What are you talking about? I mean our customers are expecting us to go back on scene. With the aftermath of all that has happened don't you think they deserve to laugh a little? We're not only selling them pranks or futilities, we're offering them fun. That's what matters to me."

Despite his obvious sincerity, the spark didn't come back. Fred merely shrugged before finally going back on his own.

* * *

"I don't understand it was there and the second after it-" George raised his hands in the air, too upset to finish his sentence.

He'd spent two hours alone at the shop before answering Hermione's worried calls. When Fred had come back alone, and in spite of how ridiculous it was, she'd feared the worst might have happened.

"We're so close! For Merlin's sake what does this heck of a curse want?" Ginny slapped her thighs.

She'd cornered Fred before he could reach his room, asking him to go for a walk with her, in vain. Her cursed brother had scornfully turned down her offer. She'd punched him in the chest, calling him a jerk, but it'd had no other effect than to stretch his lips into a smirk.

"I really don't understand. What is the curse after? What's its goal?" She turned her red head to her friend. "What do you think?"

Hermione stopped playing with her wand some seconds before making it turn between her fingers again. "Well, it depends." She raised from her seat. "I mean, can a curse think? Can a curse be smart and have its own goal? Can it evolve depending on the events? Is the one who cast it still controlling it? Is this person still alive?"

"No," George answered with confidence.

"So the curse is strong enough to go on without a wizard," Hermione continued, not disturbed in the least by her friend's assurance. It didn't matter that he might be the one who took the man's life. "It means we're fighting magic itself and not a human being."

"I'm not certain it's really reassuring," Ginny commented.

Hermione gave her a small smile. "It's not reassuring at all. When magic is on its own, who knows what can happen."

"Don't we know anybody who's already faced such a situation?" George hopefully asked.

"I don't know, I've never heard anybody speaking about such a thing," Hermione sat back on the floor. "I remember having read some archives about similar situations, nothing of a big help though."

"Can't we let Harry know?" Ginny tentatively murmured. "He may know something. And... and I'm not really at-ease with lying to him about Fred. He loves Fred as much as us after all."

"The more we will be the better it will be," Hermione agreed.

Would it have been about Percy, Charlie or Bill she might have expressed some doubts, but Harry was her best friend. She knew he wouldn't tell them to get lost, not immediately at least, that would give them some time to convince him.

"What about Ron?" she proposed. "We've been through so many things together with Harry. I don't think he'll turn his back on us if we ask him to help."

"Will he understand? I adore Ron but he can be a little..." Ginny trailed off.

"Stubborn?" Hermione offered.

They all laughed.

"That's the right word indeed," George acquiesced. "A pure Weasley."

"He has the right to know," Hermione became serious again. "I'm certain we'll be more efficient with them by our side."

"Harry, Ron and you are another inseparable trio," he softly stated.

She acquiesced.

Harry, Ron and her, they owned a unique bond, one without which she doubted she'd have gone successfully through all the hardships which had crossed her path. Fred, George and she had formed another bond, a different one, like Harry had formed one with Ginny. They were all different and yet perfectly co-existed. Hermione without Harry and Ron wouldn't be the same, she might not have come to know Fred and George. Without Ron, the twins might never have spoken to Hermione. And Ginny might not have taken any interest in Harry. To exist all their bonds needed the others.

Now was the right time to prove how well they worked together, how much they needed each other.

Ginny looked at the clock. "When are they coming home?"

"I think Mum said about six."

"In half an hour then," Hermione said. "I propose we do nothing until then."

"To take a nap would be a great idea."

George's eyes shined at Ginny's proposition.

* * *

They were silently staring at each other. Ginny, George and Hermione were standing in front of a gaping Harry and a frozen Ron. They'd cornered them after dinner, dragging them to Ginny's bedroom with claims of having something of a dead importance to tell them. And of a dead importance it was really, to such an extent that both wizards had been left completely speechless.

At first Ron'd pushed the idea away, saying it was ridiculous, and that they were the ones who should go to St-Mungo. He'd nevertheless accepted to listen to their explanations and didn't look quite as keen on sending them to the medics than he'd initially been.

"So our daily life is spent next to a living curse," the red-head boy finally sighed after several minutes, ruffling his hair in passing. "Which is acting on its own strength to make Fred insufferable, more than usual I mean," he added because of Ginny's narrowed eyes.

Harry merely kept staring at them, he felt the truth in their words but couldn't bring himself to accept them. They'd won the war for Merlin's sake! Why had they done to face another trial so soon? Didn't they deserve some peaceful time too?

He growled, hiding his face in his hands while laying back on Ginny's bed. "Not again."

Ron shook his head. "Holidays, does someone remember what are they?" he whined.

Three pairs of shoulders instantaneously relaxed. They'd been right, both wizards hadn't turned their back on them though they'd told them an unbelievable story.

"So, what's the plan?"

Hermione sheepishly looked at Ron.

"Don't tell me you have none!"

She raised a thumb at him, then turned it half way so as it was parallel to the floor.

"In fact we've the beginning of one," she started. "We're trying to wake up the true Fred."

"He's certainly sleeping somewhere in the back of his own mind."

"What a lazy ass," Ron chuckled half-joking, half-frowning. "If he is in his own mind, if he is prisoner of it, and if the curse shares his mind then how can you tell when it's our Fred and when it's not?"

Ginny whistled. George winked at her. "You impress me little bro, I sometimes forget there is a brain under this thick mane."

Ron growled. He was about to retort when Harry decided they had lost enough time.

"He's right. How do we do that?"

Hermione moved to sit beside him. "Ginny and George have already made some progress. They've ignited something in him, it's visible through his eyes. But each time they've been about to make that spark grow bigger, the curse has taken over again," she resumed.

"It's Hermione's turn to try to make him remember," George announced.

"But," Harry pinched his nose, "if the curse shares his mind, then Fred, no I mean the curse remembers, it has Fred's memories after all."

"Sure," Ginny acquiesced, "but it doesn't react the same way to them. Fred would be delighted to remember all the pranks he's taught me, we often speak about them and each time it makes him laugh to tears. That it upsets him isn't normal."

"Same for the shop. It is our shop, our dream, well one of our biggest dreams. And he does as if he didn't care," George completed.

They all turned to Hermione. Her head instinctively lowered in her shoulders.

"What is your plan to make him remember?" Harry asked.

"To talk about the good old days?"

"How?" he pressed her.

"I could start with..." she closed her eyes.

She had no idea. They'd spent so much time together over the past few years. Every moment with him had been special, to her at least. She had no way to know what his thoughts were about them.

"Perhaps you could just spend some time with him," Ron suggested. "If this Fred doesn't react like our Fred, then our Fred should react to your presence whereas the other should merely be annoyed. Ginny and George are related with him, so the curse may consider it normal to have them stuck to his heels. Because you're not related you're not forcefully obliged to stick with him. Our Fred will be pleased, the other, well I've already said it, he'll be annoyed as it has perfectly been since its awakening."

They blankly stared at him. For someone who had just learnt what was happening he surprisingly understood the situation very well.

"I have a brain you know, and I do use it," he snorted, only for the form though – in reality he was far from being vexed.

He knew they didn't really think he was stupid, far from it, and because he almost never clearly explain his thoughts, the surprise on their faces was normal.

"You should go for a walk around the Burrow," Harry proposed.

"Why not."

"Go for it!" George decided. "On tomorrow morning you take him out. Harry and Ron you'll stay here in case anything happens." They nodded. "Ginny too. It'd be good if you could keep Mum busy." She acquiesced. "Very well then. We've our day planned. And..." his voice died in his throat.

Ginny immediately moved to engulf him in a fierce hug. As strong as her brother was looking, the whole situation was making him suffer much more than anybody else. Hermione also took them in her arms, Harry and Ron behind her, clumsily putting their arms around the group.

"Thank you," he softly murmured. "Thank you very much."

**To Be Continued**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the last chapter of The Masquerade. I hope you've enjoyed your reading! **

**ElieNP**

* * *

"I still don't understand."

Hermione sighed for the umpteenth time. Ron was right, the cursed Fred didn't see any logic in them spending some time together.

"I just want to walk with you."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends!" she cried out loud in frustration. Was it possible to strangle a curse? She'd like to try right now.

His brows furrowed. "Really?" The edge of cruelty in his voice didn't go unnoticed. A frown marred Hermione's forehead.

"As stupid and insufferable as you are presently, I can only answer you in a positive way. Yes, my dear Frederic, we are friends."

She might as well try to exasperate the curse out of Fred' shoes. She was certain she was annoyed enough to be able to do so.

He scowled at her. "I don't think so."

"Never asked for your opinion," she pointed out.

"We can't be friends if I don't want us to be."

"Why not?"

"Because friends have to agree to be friends."

"Never heard about that rule."

"But it's logical!"

"Really?" The edge of amusement in her voice didn't go unnoticed. He growled in response to her cockiness.

Though it was pleasant to witness the curse losing it, Hermione wasn't proud of herself for that all. As annoyed as the thing was, it still existed. And that was terrible.

"Don't you want to slap me?"

"It'd be my pleasure," she smirked.

"Then-"

"Because you'd be too full of yourself to have roused such a behaviour from me."

He unconsciously took a step backwards. Hermione Granger was a calm bookworm, a miss-goody-two-shoes, wasn't she? The cursed Fred swallowed hard. They had nothing in common. Nothing to share, nothing she could want so much, to the point she was glued to his heels since he'd appeared in the kitchen. And, more than everything else, Hermione Granger couldn't act slyly, it wasn't in her nature, was it?

Hermione could see confusion in his eyes. The memories the curse had access to seemed not to be exactly right. She slightly frowned. Could it be that their Fred was disturbing his own memories to confuse the curse? Could he have changed her back to the girl she'd been when they'd met? The moralistic first year bookworm? It did make sense. If the curse thought she was still this girl, then there was no way she could be friend with the true Fred.

'Whoever has cast this curse was crazy,' she thought.

It was so hard not to lose it when facing Fred, so hard to watch him without actually seeing him. They'd been separated for so long – too long - she missed him dearly. Of course, she missed their trio, but what she missed the most was the time they spent together. George wasn't always with them, often leaving the two of them alone, be it at the Burrow or the workshop. She'd become used to share such a proximity with him.

"What am I to you?" she suddenly asked.

They were now in the middle of the Weasleys' Quidditch pitch. She'd stopped walking to face him fully.

"What am I to you Fred Weasley?" she repeated.

"A nuisance."

She chuckled. "Of course, but I'm not talking to the curse here, I want to know what the true Frederic Weasley thinks." Her eyes bored into his.

To be honest, she'd wanted to ask him this question for a long time. What did he really think of her? Was she truly a friend? Something less? Something more? She didn't dare hope. But she did hold hope in her heart. She hoped to be more to him, such as he meant more to her than a mere friend.

Albeit she dearly liked George, the feelings she had for him weren't as strong as the ones she destined to Fred. She couldn't tell when things had changed, all she knew was they had actually changed, drifting from a precious friendship to something ever more precious. If George was an anchor to her, Fred was her downfall, and it was thrilling as such.

Without him her life was dull.

Three months of thinking him lost had been an eternity of agony. Why did understanding always dawn on you when it was almost too late? As cliché as it was, Hermione had admitted the true nature of her feelings for Fred when he was laying on his hospital bed. Though they'd existed for much longer, the fear she might break the bond they'd formed had kept her from following further this idea. She couldn't be in love with a friend, a crush was acceptable, love far too heavy, too dangerous. Would George agree to share his brother with her? More than for a simple friendship? Wouldn't he grow wary of her, fearing she might hurt his brother?

She'd been too afraid her feelings would be the end of their trio to express them. Too afraid until it'd been too late, with no possible coming back. Fred had been lost for everyone. She'd truly acknowledged the place the twins both held in her life then. George had been able to kick her back to her senses. He'd let her cling to him without protesting. And he'd clung to her too.

'He probably knows," she realised as she kept looking at Fred in the eyes.

As close as they'd been for the past months, George had certainly been aware of her feelings long before she'd come to consider their existence. Most of people never thought twice about being careful around the twins, they were infamous pranksters, nothing more, that was monstrously wrong. George and Fred were sharp observers, a priceless quality when you spent your time playing jokes on people.

"You're crazy," the cursed Fred retorted.

"Not much more than you."

He turned away from her prying eyes.

"What does our Fred think of me?" she repeated again.

It might have been what they should have done from the beginning, to ask for Fred himself. To try to wake him up out of his own mind hadn't worked, it hadn't been straightforward enough, not sufficiently honest to encourage Fred to do his best and bring the curse down.

Because it was all about that indeed. Honesty. The cursed Fred had never once been honest. He'd told each one of them what you could have expected from the twin if you didn't really know him.

Mrs Weasley and the ones who had wholly accepted the new version of him had been dishonest too. That was why they couldn't realize they were being deceived. They'd gladly played along with the curse, taking in the relief it offered them. They weren't to be blamed though, Hermione, too, had been about to lose herself to lies. The first being the most terrible one, she'd thought there'd been no hope left. Their plan to end Fred's life had been a trap they'd scarcely avoided. At this time, they'd refused to be honest with the need of time which obviously existed. They'd deemed themselves patient when they'd been worse than toddlers in front of an ice cream. They hadn't wanted to wait more for him to come back, because they'd have had to live with their pain, to face it and fight to keep going on. They'd cowardly chosen the easiest – and quickest – way.

In spite of that, all this time, it was evident they'd been doubting. Hermione acknowledged it now, and George probably did too: they'd never have done such a thing. And so the curse had allowed its prisoner to wake up, sensing they were admitting the truth to themselves.

The dreams, under the looks of nightmares, had served to point out the right way to her. A way to which Fred belonged, the way of truth.

The sparks had always been roused when they'd been honest to themselves. Ginny revealing that no matter how infuriating her big brother could be she would always treasure their precious bond and memories, George remembering how dear the shop was to them, how strong their link was, stronger than anything else, than money or friendship. They were twins before all, now and forever. And now it was her turn, standing in front of him, wholeheartedly admitting her love for him. She doubted the curse would be strong enough to resist such a blow.

More than Mrs Weasley, more than his brothers and friends, Hermione had undoubtedly been the most dishonest of them all, sticking to the idea of wanting a friend back, when her heart was craving for much more than a mere friendship.

The curse had been cast to prove how rotten people had become. How much they lied to themselves without even acknowledging it. One could wonder if this curse wasn't, at last, a gift, but it'd take some time before any of them considered it as such. It'd brought too much pain.

"Fred," she whispered.

She was afraid, terrified she might have got it all wrong. However, she refused to run away. She had to fight, harder than ever, here was the biggest trial of her young life. "Fred." His name was a charm on her tongue. She solely focused on his eyes which intently stared back at her.

"Fred, I'm in love with you."

Her sentence was almost lost to the soft wind which enveloped them. Her body was frozen, her mind was too. She wouldn't back away nor try to anticipate different conducts to adopt depending on his reaction. Right now there was no curse to defeat, no plan to follow. In the middle of the Weasley Quidditch pitch were only Fred, Hermione and their feelings. She had opened her heart, given it to him, wholly, willingly. She would hate the curse to break it, but wouldn't hate Fred for doing exactly the same. It was one thing to be friends, another to be in love. She'd loathe herself if he were to force himself in a relationship not to hurt her.

Nevertheless, back to the curse, and unfortunately for Fred, she'd certainly beat the ass of the man being controlled if the curse dared play with her honesty. No joke, no regret.

Her eyes didn't turn away. She'd be brave, no matter what would be the result of her newly born tactics. And if it were to fail... She clenched her fists.

One thing at a time.

His eyes were clouded by too many emotions for one to dominate the others. Fred's body was tensed, his jaw clenched, so much she feared his teeth might break. His feet nervously taped the ground.

Fred was fighting his own battle. She'd seen no spark in his eyes, but that meant nothing. Her honesty had obviously ignited something much bigger, sufficiently important for the curse to have lost its voice – only good at spitting lies.

"Fred," she softly called. "I don't care about which place you're going to take back in my life. All I want is you."

Hermione couldn't be more sincere, Fred's eyes more clouded. She could see his veins through the skin of his arms. His face had gone pale.

"Fred, don't you dare lie to us, you don't want to let this thing control you," she declared to encourage him. She wouldn't let him fight alone. "You don't want the curse to take your place. It'd fill our life with plenty of lies and unhappiness. Sorrow, frustration and anger would be our daily companions. The curse is playing with you as he's played with us for too long. You've been able to change your memories to thwart its plan once, do it again. Go for the victory!"

She got frantic as the words left her mouth, not because of panic, rather because of the faith she had in him. She trusted Fred to come back to them, to her.

They'd fought the curse when their own fears needed to be kicked out of the way. It was Fred's turn to face his. It was time he proved he was master in his own mind and wasn't afraid of his thoughts and feelings.

"It's time we start to be honest with ourselves," she declared with confidence.

A confidence which suddenly appeared in his eyes. His fists stopped unclenching and his whole face set in a fierce mask. Hermione took a step forwards, hesitating only a little. She couldn't fight with him for his mind was a place where she couldn't follow him, yet it didn't mean her presence by his side wasn't important.

She slowly walked to him. He had to know she was there for him. She stopped when she was close enough to gently rest her hands around his. His eyes first went down to their hands, then up to her face. Fred was present, close to the surface, close to win.

"Fred," she murmured, tenderly stroking his knuckles. His lips shivered. She stepped forwards so as only a few centimetres were left between their chests. "It's time you wake up."

The distance between them suddenly disappeared. Fred had firmly pulled her to him with one hand while gently cupping her cheek with the other. Firmness and gentleness. Hermione didn't hesitate to respond. At that very moment the curse could be playing a cruel joke on her she didn't care, it might be her sole chance to be kissed in such a way by Fred, she'd take it, no matter how bitter the regrets could be later.

She pressed harder against him. Her hands caressed his back, slowly slid up to the nape of his neck, then her fingers tangled in his hair. She could feel him, not only physically but mentally, Fred was with her. He was back, now she had to make him stay. She raised on her toes to deepen the kiss.

"Fred," she breathed against his mouth. "Fred, you're here."

His lips fiercely claimed hers again. She needed to look him in the eyes, to make sure the curse had totally surrendered to honesty, however she was reluctant to detach herself from him to do it yet.

"Hermione," he whispered softly. "Oh Hermione! Thank you so much."

Her eyes fluttered open and she slowly stepped backwards to study him. His features had relaxed at some point during their kiss. It was relieving though not enough to reassure her entirely. Not feeling too daring for that all, she finally focused on his eyes. What she saw in them brought tears to hers.

No clouded, no cruel, a bit lost but mainly filled with an emotion which went straight to her heart.

She shakily brought a hand to her mouth, lightly biting it not to cry aloud. Fred was back! Truly back at last!

He swiftly pulled her back against his chest. She didn't protest.

"It was so painful, so damned painful and dark," he murmured against her skin. She gripped him tightly. "You were all there and yet I couldn't reach any of you. Trapped in my own mind, can you believe in that?"

She buried her head deeper in his shirt. It'd been hard enough to be locked away from his heart, she didn't want to imagine how much he'd suffered because of their slowness. They could have saved him earlier if they'd taken more time to think about the situation. Their emotions had controlled them right from the beginning, playing with their mind to prevent them from efficiently planning their way out of this mess.

"Is it really over?" she weakly asked, raising her head to meet his eyes. Couldn't the curse be waiting in the dark for them to let their guard down?

Fred shook his head. "I don't feel its presence any more, can you?"

She chased a lock of red hair from his forehead. No, she didn't feel its ominous presence any more, but it seemed too easy. The curse had made them suffer so much, could it be really that simple to get rid of it? Indeed, it could. Because being honest wasn't easy at all. It'd been one of the biggest trials they'd had to face. The last effort would be to allow herself to feel safe, at-ease, in Fred's arms without blaming herself for what she'd almost done, and for what she hadn't done quickly enough.

She'd get rid of these feelings for, in Fred's embrace, she felt the way she'd always felt before the curse. Once again, such an outcome could seem simple, but the exhaustion – physical and mental – was real.

"It's not that easy, is it?" Fred commented.

Hermione nodded. She knew he was talking about being honest. To be true to themselves had been even harder than facing forbidden magic.

"You're braver than me."

Hermione lightly punched his chest. "That's not true. We've been about to lose you, to lose ourselves. You don't know how much you mean to us." Her eyes deeply bored into his. "You don't know how much you mean to me."

He tenderly caressed her cheek. "Now I know." She granted him a marvellous smile, the first since the end of the war.

"We've missed you so much."

"I bet you have," he chuckled.

They went back to the Burrow before George, Harry, Ginny and Ron came, worried, after them.

Fred hadn't said a word than his twin was tightly crushing him against his chest. Then, they all changed into a bunch of crying faces, tangled arms and legs. Their laughs alerted Mrs Weasley. She didn't say anything either, no matter how strange seeing her family clutching at her son with so much strength was. Hadn't he been back for some time now? Why wasn't she asking them why they were provoking such a ruckus? They didn't try to know. They could see relief in her eyes, a feeling she had missed for several months now, and it was enough to satisfy them.

Molly Weasley forcefully blinked before joining her kids in the warm embrace. Neither stupid nor naïve, she'd simply allowed herself to be deceived by her pain. Yet this pain was nothing compared to the joy of having her son free of what had been hovering above him for so many months – an eternity indeed! Deep inside her, she perfectly knew how lucky she was to be surrounded by kids who used to never lose hope. They'd done their best to bring her son back, all the while protecting her heart and going along with an awfully painful masquerade. In spite of these difficulties, they were presently successful.

The rest of the family pretty much reacted the same way. Fred didn't need to speak, and no words were exchanged as bear hugs engulfed the young man every second.

The hearts knew what the heads had refused to acknowledge.

Fred had always known he was loved, however the way they were all proving it to him brought, more than once, plenty of tears to his eyes.

"We all love you." He jumped a little. Sat in the middle of their Quidditch pitch, he hadn't heard Hermione coming, though he'd been certain she'd not be long to follow him.

She knelt by his side to study his eyes carefully. "It's totally disappeared," he beamed at her. He never missed an occasion to reassure them, her, about the definitive disappearance of the curse. Nothing was left of it, he was adamant.

Hermione nodded before leaning her head on his shoulder. "I can feel it."

"Everybody knew something was wrong with me, each one of you in your own way." He gently grabbed her hand to kiss its back.

George and she had confessed their first plan to him, not once turning away from his curious eyes. They wouldn't have born to stay by his side with such an elephant between them. Fred had, literally, burst into laugher. Putting an arm around their shoulders he'd pulled them close to him and kissed their cheeks. "Brilliant," he'd breathed in their ears.

Lost at first, George and Hermione had soon realised Fred wasn't playing a prank on them. He wasn't angry with them, no, on the contrary, he was thankful they loved him enough to have considered this option.

"As long as you are here to bring me back nothing will happen to me," he murmured.

"Don't lose yourself too often, or too far away," Hermione replied. "You don't imagine how tiring you are for our nerves."

He chuckled in her hair. "Your nerves don't like me?"

"They are patient, and love you very much, but if you want them to last you must take care of them," she smiled.

"It'll be my pleasure to take care of you."

"My nerves," she corrected.

"You and them are two different things?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sometimes I wonder."

He tickled her. She giggled.

"I promise I'll take care of you as wonderfully as I'll take care of your nerves."

Hermione burst into laugher. "What a declaration is that! Fred you're brilliant!"

**The End**


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